Artistic Panic
by Adele Starminster
Summary: Hi, my name's Lyra Rivers. And I just discovered the end of the world. Now Holly, Foaly, and my new friends, Greg Saunders, Sara Sidle, and Lindsey Willows have to save the world!rnrnMy life sucks.
1. Fallin out a tree

A/N:Yes, I know I should be working on Ladies Storm, but oh well. This is the only CSI/Artemis Fowl crossover known to mankind.  
  
BTW, after reviewing my priorities, I decided that I would focus on this, Ladies Storm, and my TP fic this summer.  
  
Important Notice: I will be gone until Tuesday, so I can't type until then. Sorry!  
  
Dis: Do you really think I own Artimis Fowl?  
  
The sixteen year old was far from normal, by anyone's standards.  
  
Her straight auburn hair was pulled into a messy bun that covered her ears, her hazel eyes were staring at the man and the woman huddled over someone. Her baggy white t-shirt was at least five sizes too big, and was covered in marker.  
  
Her cutoffs, as baggy as her shirt, had doodles all over it. She was wearing long floppy boots. But that wasn't all. There was something lurking just under the surface, something very few could place.  
  
The fact that she was sitting in what was probably the only ancient oak tree in Las Vegas with a wooden art case at midnight clinched it.  
  
Lyra Rivers, known to the world as the mysterious Ruby Smoke, was completing her latest work.  
  
It was a perfect charcoal sketch of the pair under the tree. She caught the expressions on their faces perfectly, and, of course, the expression of the dead woman the two were examining.  
  
I guess my newest project's a bust, Lyra thought dejectedly. I mean, a murder under the tree you were using for a pedestal kinda puts a damper on things, ya know? - - - - - -  
  
I shifted to get a better glimpse of the people on the ground. And wouldn't you know, my sketchbook tumbles to the ground, causing the man, who it nearly decapitated, to look up.  
  
"Sara, come here." The guy must have seen me. D---, why hadn't I shielded? Yes, for those of you who are curious, I'm a fairy. The only reason I'm on the surface is due to a certain centaur's paranoia. Long story.  
  
Anyways, I'm starting to ramble. Oh, well, might as well come down. Foaly gave me some gadget that makes me look like a Mud Man. Let's just hope it works.  
  
Climbing down, I slip and tumble out of the tree. Yeow, that hurt! Thankfully, I didn't fall far enough to break anything. But blue sparks are quickly sealing the multiple gashes and scrapes, as well as a bruise the size of a car. I hope to Frond the people don't notice.  
  
My long hair is pulled out of its bun type thing, (I have no talent with hair) carefully disguised as a nervous movement.  
  
"What's your name?" the man asks. Uh-oh. I'm in serious crap.  
  
"Lyra." I stutter.  
  
"Last name?" A sarcastic remark pops out of my mouth.  
  
"That's on a need to know basis. You don't need to know. I do, however, need my sketchbook back." Lovely, Lyra, get yourself in trouble this fast, why don't you? How 'bout you shoot yourself, as well?  
  
"Grissom, you just got insulted by a teenager," The woman, Sara, is it? laughs.  
  
"Thank you for stating the obvious," I grumble. I really need that sketchbook. If the press finds out the ever-elusive Ruby Smoke is a sixteen year old girl, say hello, end of fairykind, apparently.  
  
"Why were you in the tree?" Grissom? asks.  
  
"Uh, well, um... don't do that!" I fairly howl as he starts flipping through my book. I can't give him the mesmer, he's studying the book, and he seems kinda smart. Too smart for me to do anything but direct eye contact. The woman is staring at me. Um, uh-oh.  
  
Only one thing I can do. "Sorry," I say. Than I kick his shin, grab the book, and run.  
  
Once I'm around the corner, I shield, scared out of my wits. I flip through the book, making sure everything's okay.  
  
"Oh no." My favorite sketch is gone, a pretty one of Lake Mead at sunrise, and the sketch I just did.  
  
Which wouldn't have been bad if I hadn't signed both my alias and my name on the back of the first.  
  
I was gonna get it soon. 


	2. To plan

My second chapter of Lyra's story. Wow, I'm quick. Note my sarcasm. Oh well. On with the story.  
  
"**_WHAT!!!!!!!!!!_"**  
  
"Commander Root, while I completely understand that this is huge, do you have to drive me deaf?" I ask hopefully. Maybe it was a bad idea to tell about the missing sketches. Even over the headset, I have a headache to top all headaches.  
  
Hearing Foaly snicker, I nearly sigh with relief. Now Root's gonna get in an argument with Foaly, which is rather amusing...  
  
"Lyra, do you have any idea who has the sketches?" Huh, what happened to Root? Musta left. I hate communicating on through the headset. You can never see the other person.  
  
"Two humans, a man and a woman from the Las Vegas CSI team. The woman was called Sara, and the man was called Grissom, which I think is his last name." The second I finished Foaly started typing.  
  
"They are one Sara Sidle and a Gil Grissom," Foaly started.  
  
"Uh, Foaly?" I interrupt.  
  
"What now?"  
  
"They looked like they were almost done, maybe just cleaning up."  
  
"So they might be back at their lab."  
  
"Yeah, and that counts as a dwelling. So someone has to get an invite."  
  
"That might be a problem." Foaly muttered.  
  
"Nah, I have an idea. I think."  
  
"What?"  
  
"It's past midnight."  
  
"So?"  
  
"Minors aren't allowed in public parts of casino/hotels then."  
  
"And Mud People think you're a minor, so you won't be allowed in. But casinos are open to anyone over twenty-one years of age, so you won't need an invitation technically."  
  
"But if they find me in there without a guardian, I'll be taken by Child Services."  
  
"But if no one there is available, you'll be taken to the police station."  
  
"Sorta. I'm thinking maybe with a little help from you, I can be taken to where my sketches are instead."  
  
"We can't leave you to do this alone. An officer or two has to help you if you get stuck."  
  
"How will they get in?"  
  
"Good point. You can use the mesmer on someone to invite them in."  
  
"Will that even work?"  
  
"It should."  
  
"I don't like advise with ought or should," I mutter.  
  
"There's a good chance it will, then. Happy?"  
  
"Ecstatic. And if you send Chix again, you will be buried in a matchbox in thousands of itty-bitty pieces. Got it?"  
  
"Yes, Lyra."  
  
"Good. Whose coming?"  
  
"Foaly, Root said you want to see me?" I grinned at the voice.  
  
"Hey, Holly."  
  
"Lyra Rivers, what did you do now? Start from the beginning." Cousins. Honestly. They know you too well.  
  
"Well, in the beginning, God created the universe, but this caused a lot of problems and was generally considered a bad idea. "  
  
"_Lyra..."  
_  
"Okay, well..."  
  
A/N: Ok, um, details of Lyra. She appears to be sixteen, has greenish hazel eyes, and dark auburn hair down past her shoulders. She's half an inch shorter than Holly, her cousin on her mother's side. 


	3. Part A of the Plan

A/N: Be happy. I order you to. And REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  
  
"I must be insane," I mutter darkly.  
  
"This was your idea," Holly points out.  
  
"Yeah, but still, you're trusting me."  
  
"Good point. Foaly, should we do this?"  
  
"It has a good chance of succeeding. Lyra, are you in the outfit?" Foaly asks, referring to the outfit picked to attract attention. It was a black and gray knee-length skirt and charcoal gray jacket, the uniform of Holy Trinity, a nearby private school. A black tee shirt with "Rock and Roll Warrior" written in gold, bright blue and gold knee socks, and beat up decorated sneakers completed the look. Don't laugh, Foaly picked it out. He's a dead centaur walking.  
  
"Yes, Foaly. I'm not stupid."  
  
"You sure about that?"  
  
"Holly, would you like to be vivisected alive?"  
  
"Not really."  
  
"Then shut up."

"Well, Foaly, this is fun." I mutter.  
  
"Isn't it?"  
  
"Foaly, I was being sarcastic."  
  
"I know."  
  
"I'm gonna find a place to unshield, all right?" I duck behind an empty desk and unshield. I slip away, towards the taped off area. Two security guards, numbskulls, obviously, saw me and leered. I wonder if I should run.  
  
"How old are you?" One sneers.  
  
"S-sixteen," I stutter, every inch the terrified teen.  
  
"Name?"  
  
"L-Lyra Rivers."  
  
"Are you a guest of the hotel?"  
  
"N-no."  
  
"Do you know our policy for taking care of stray minors, Miss Rivers?"  
  
"N-no."  
  
"You get taken by Child Services. But due to an unfortunate- thing, you will be taken by the police over there."  
  
They drag me towards three... CSIs, right?  
  
"This child was found near the casino entrance. As her parents are not guests of the hotel, she normally would be sent to Child Services. As they are too busy, protocol says we must turn her over to you." The speech was obviously well rehearsed.  
  
"All right. Can she wait here while we finish processing the scene?" a blonde woman asks.  
  
"Of course."  
  
Step A of the plan is complete.  
  
A/N: Sorry it's short, but next chapter we get to the real plot! What, did you think this whole story was about Lyra getting her sketches back? (grins evilly) 


	4. Should I be nervous

A/N: In response to a reviewer, the explanations will all be told right now. She is NOT, however wanted by the LEP, nor will she ever be (I think, might happen.)  
  
Lyra stared out the car window, thinking of how she got in this screwy situation.  
  
It all started two years ago. I just got out of the Haven Institute for Artistic Youth. (HIYA for short) I had no idea what I was going to do with my life. Seriously. Most of my family was in the LEP, but I was not about to do that. My art came first. Unfortunately, my mother told me that she would disown me if I became an artist professionally. She was the second female to even get in the LEP, and takes her job seriously.  
  
So when my cousin Holly told me about the need for undercover fairies aboveground, I got a bit curious.  
  
And when my mom found out, well, it was sealed. It was a good compromise. Technically, I was working for the LEP, and I was also able to do my art. Perfect.  
  
When I heard the news that I was going to be in Las Vegas, I went through the roof. Plenty of fascinating sights to sketch.  
  
One boring day, I had a brilliant idea. There was an art museum nearby, and I needed money. I spoke to the curator. He agreed to do an exhibit under the alias of Ruby Smoke, and he would say to the press that they appeared in his office once a day. That would bring publicity to the museum. I would get very well paid.

So that started my career as Ruby Smoke. A career that looked like it might end early.  
  
If only I knew...

Twenty minutes later  
  
"And why did you kick Mr. Grissom?" The man, an Agent Culpepper, asks. Apparently, the killer had struck in multiple states, or some such thing. All she knows was that he reminds her of someone, but she's not sure who...  
  
She bites back a groan. He asked that twice already! "I panicked!" she frowns at him. She really wanted to sock him, really, she did!  
  
_ Uh-oh, now I know who he reminds me of! Briar Cudgeon, that weirdo with the twisted face. He got fried, didn't he?_  
  
"Miss Rivers, we found this at the scene..." he starts.  
  
"One, you were most definitely not there, and two, it was technically taken from me."  
  
"It was at the crime scene."  
  
"It fell from a tree!"  
  
"Anyway, it had an interesting bit of information on it, stating that you were Ruby Smoke, someone the press desperately wants to meet."  
  
"That's blackmail you're insinuating, isn't it?"  
  
"That and the fact that your background is slightly sketchy," here Lyra frowns at the intended pun, "right, Miss... Lyralynn Rivers?"  
  
"Now what are you suggesting?" Lyra hated her full name.  
  
"Lyra, what are you doing?" Foaly hisses through the disguised earpiece, seemingly a large sunburst.  
  
"That you are not who you say you are, of course." He says condescendingly.  
  
"And who will believe that load of bull?" she hisses, eyes narrowed.  
  
"Soon, everyone."  
  
"I want my sketches, please." She snaps.  
  
"They're evidence."  
  
"Of what? The fact that I'm an artist! I'm through with being polite, I've put up with this long enough!" Lyra's temper snaps. And it doesn't just snap, it shatters swiftly into a thousand itty bitty pieces.  
  
"I'm sorry, but we have to hold you until your parent or guardian comes to claim you."  
  
"Oh, really?"

"Yes, really."

Then Lyra slaps him hard enough to send him reeling. She grabs her sketches and crosses the room.  
  
"This is not my day," she groans. The door was locked!

"I'm afraid that you can't leave."

"No really?" Lyra was about to seriously hurt him.

"Lyralynn Margaret Rivers! CALM DOWN!" Foaly rarely yelled, but Lyra's stress levels were through the roof. She really would hurt him, probably badly. That and what he had seen in the iris cam.

"Lyra, let me see you latest work." Lyra pretends to study her sketch, focusing on the wound.

"D'arvit."


	5. Calypso's Catalyst

Artistic Panic

Chapter Seven

A/N: Short chapter, sorry!

I stare at the sketch. I hadn't realized it at the time, but I knew that symbol on the woman, as did every fairy in Haven over thirty.

"Calypso's Catalyst," I whispered.

"What did you say?" I spin angrily, expecting Culpepper to yell at me. But it is Dr. Grissom looking at me curiously. I glare at him

"Lyra, just tell him," Foaly hisses. I mentally roll my eyes. Was it really a good idea? Oh, what the heck?

"Calypso's Catalyst is an old story my mother told me. Supposedly it served as a power magnifier, a symbol made of Death. The story also says that three thousand years after the first was laid, darkness shall try to overcome the world and humanity shall fall forever if it wins." My voice sounds dead, even to me. My hands shake uncontrollably, and are the color of ash. I force myself to continue.

"It also supposedly served as a doorway."

"To what?" Dr. Grissom's voice is curious, without a hint of mockery. I grin darkly.

"Between times, worlds, anything. Some legends say that the Black Death was created by a Catalyst gone wrong. This time, judging by trauma, it's supposed to bring something to our time. If you're wondering, Calypso from the Odyssey is based off the original." My voice is surprisingly steady, but I think I'm rambling.

"Original?" Dr. Grissom asks. I roll my eyes.

"Calypso, the original, that is, was nasty. She was one of the Fair Folk, or fairies, and went… astray. The gods grew pretty ticked as she tried to both wipe out humanity and raised the dead. She found out, and rather than let them punish her, she threw herself, magic and soul, into a spell, a Catalyst, and so the first was laid, three thousand years ago." I close my eyes and try to calm down. This is NOT good.

"How many deaths are needed?" Dr. Grissom asks.

"Thirty one." I looked at him curiously. "You believe me?"

"I believe that some believes in this." His eyes are inscrutable.

"This was number thirty-one." Culpepper's voice is quiet. I shiver. Where's Holly? I want to go HOME!

"Then there is no time left." Correction. NOW my voice sounds dead. I want to be safely in Haven, away from this death trap! I want to be away from what will happen! What will happen is that the barriers between fantasy and reality will be shattered, and the dark tales humans tell as ghost stories will roam the earth, destroying all in their path.

"Grissom, someone's here for Lyra Rivers," Sara says from the door.

"May I leave?" I ask coldly, to disguise the wave of nausea that threatens to over whelm me.

"Unless you have more to add?"

"In that case, bye!" I run for the door, and right into a girl my about my height.

A/N: Now things start moving, and the plot happens!


End file.
